


Don't Drip on the Trip

by orphan_account



Category: The Monkees (Band), The Monkees (TV)
Genre: Camaraderie, Gen, I wrote this while high, Jokes, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Language, Recreational Drug Use, Slurs, so go easy on me, warning: f slur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 09:55:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29080485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Mike messes with a homophobe at Micky's 21st birthday party with a little help from his bandmates. Contains homophobic slurs and non-sober, sans-proofread writing. Just a little scene I thought of.
Kudos: 4





	Don't Drip on the Trip

The pad was decked out and full of people. A few seemed like they just wandered in off the sand, but most were Micky’s friends, acquaintances, and dream-lovers. It was his twenty-first birthday, and it seemed like he was doing everything in his power not to remember it.

Mike watched as Micky danced in a sea of people, a cheap beer in one hand and joint in the other. He smiled knowing his lecture on a well-balanced meal wasn’t for nothing. He took another puff before passing the joint back to Davy. His eyes focused on a hacked GI type that was heading straight for him.

“Hey faggot”

The buzz-kill reeked of beer. Probably some killjoy that wandered in assuming this place operated in the same spirit as a frat house. Boy, was he wrong, and Mike was dead set on making him know it.

“Oh, howdy! I’m not so familiar with that word, what was it?” He asked real cheery-like. 

“Can it, faggot.” The bigot snarled. 

“Faggot.” Mike drew a hand to his chin and talked in his thinking voice. “Faggot… hey, that’s got a nice little ring to it, don’t it? I kinda like that. Hey, Micky!” he called to the mindlessly grooving birthday boy. “What’s a faggot?”

“I dunno, but it sounds groovy!” He called back.

“That’s what I said.” He marveled with a goofy grin. 

“I know you’re a cocksucker. You reek of spunk.”

“You’re familiar with the smell, then?” Davy piped up beside him on the sofa, where he was growing increasingly more enraged. Fight’n spirit, no buzz could dull it. Ready to throttle anyone before he let his trip sour. He looked like he was just in a fight too, still sweating from the number Micky wanted them to do for everyone to see. 

“Settle down shortstuff, he might be onto something. Peter! Hey, Pete, buddy, c’mere.” Mike called out from the bandstand over the heads of a dozen people to Peter, where he was leaning against the wall.

Peter looked over at Mike with that satisfied puppy smile he always wore when he was stoned out of his mind and drifted over. He had a right to be satisfied, Mike thought as he drew nearer. He’d done the decorations, baked the cake, and found as much frodis as he could get his hands on. This love-in might have been Micky’s celebration, but it was Peter’s creation. Pete sized up the drunken hulk with a stone cold stare before beaming at Mike.   


“Yes Michael?” He asked with a look containing all the adoration in this worldly dimension. 

“Shotgun, we’ve been friends a long time now, haven’t we? I mean, you might as well be kin for as well as you know me. Right? Now, you see this here fella---” the buzzcut was obviously getting annoyed and grunted a sigh. “--- is trying to put a name to my face, but I need your honest opinion on the matter. Do I look like a cocksucker to you?

Peter’s head tilted to the side and his face loosened. A light giggle. He was in on it. “Aw, Mike, you know you are! That’s what I love about you, man. You shouldn’t doubt yourself so much.” He smiled wide again before closing his eyes in some sort of existential bliss and wandered away. 

“You’re all faggots! I’m getting the hell out of this sin den. Patsy! Patsy where are ya? We’re blowing this fruit stand.”

Mike felt a jolt run down his spine and had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing. “Patsy? Oh, I think Patsy’s in the orgy right now.” The enraged but stunned look on the asshole’s face was like honey in Mike’s tea. “But if you wanna wait outside I can go get her for you?” 

Mike would never be able to put into words the intense joy rocket he rode as he watched the jerk snarl at him before turning tail and grumble his way to the door. The flow of relief was pretty nice, too. Davy punched the air next to him. 


End file.
